


Through the eyes of the mountain

by Saetha



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Angst, BIFUR SAVES THE DAY, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Cuddles, Erebor, Erebor is Alive, FLUFFY CHAIR, Fix-It, Fluff, Hugs, I just realised I have added two chapter so more tags, M/M, Permanent Injury, and a chair, and more cuddles, blind!Thorin, if you don't want sad just skip the epilogue m'kay, now there is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday fanfic for Esthree, after her prompt. </p><p>Thorin wakes up after the BOFA blind and heavily injured; although the way through his recovery is stony there are friends standing by him every inch of it. And then there is still the mountain, a mountain that is more alive than many would have thought.</p><p>EDIT: Now with a second part, for Matty!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esthree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esthree/gifts), [bodysnatch3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodysnatch3r/gifts).



> Happy Birthday dear Esthree! This is fully based on her prompt - unfortunately I had underestimated the length of the story so I wrote less then I probably could have but still much more than I'd originally planned to. Enjoy! Also, you do NOT have to read the epilogue. That's just me...being me really also because my brain is an asshat.
> 
> Also, yes, I have ignored the scene where Bifur lost his axe. For reasons.

The darkness was absolute.

As a dwarf, Thorin was used to being able to see even in almost pitch-black rooms, their eyes so much more light sensitive than that of other folks. And despite what many believed the earth wasn't always dark - rock would glimmer, there would be fluorescent animals, plants and fungi producing their own light and even the smallest amount of light from a candle or torch was enough to throw back a thousand reflections from the stone.

This darkness, however, was different. No spark of light, no impression of anything around him, just blackness instead that had swallowed everything. The first time he had woken up after the battle he had panicked, had believed himself to be caught in an endless inbetween halfway between the Halls and Middle-earth, a punishment for how badly he thought he had failed. It was only Dwalin's voice that had managed to call him back - rough, laced with pain and yet the same voice he had known for almost two hundred years of his life. He hadn't understood everything that Dwalin had said, but enough to know that he wasn't dead. That at least. Then someone had raised his head to help him drink something and the pain from the forced movement that exploded between his temples had been enough to send him back into that strange realm between unconsciousness and sleep.

Things were slightly clearer when he awoke again although his thinking was still muddled and slow, no doubt from whatever anaesthetic the healer had dosed him with. It still wasn't enough to dull the pain in his body completely - as soon as he tried to move a little the agony flared up again, particularly in his head and the right lower side of his body. He groaned and tried to open his eyes, but the darkness remained.

"Ssshhhh." Dwalin's voice was there again, tired but steady. Thorin grit his teeth and tried to move at least one of his hands in the direction where the voice came from. There was some rustling and then Dwalin's fingers closed around his, comfortingly rough and warm like they had always been. Thorin squeezed back as well as he could and opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a croak.

"Wait. I'll get you some water." Dwalin's warm fingers disappeared and Thorin made a protesting little noise that was quickly silenced, however, when Dwalin returned almost immediately and a cup was held to his lips again. The water was clear and cool, a blessing on his parched throat and Thorin made a movement as if to hold Dwalin back when the cup disappeared from his lips again.

"Dwalin." he managed to say. His One's fingers closed around his hand again.

"I'm here." he said roughly. "I'm here, _kurdel_."

"Nephews." The urgency in Thorin's voice was unmistakeable. Images from the battle began coming back to him and with them the memory of two dwarves far too young who were throwing themselves in front of their uncle after a hit from a mace belonging to Bolg, son of Azog, had shattered his hip and made Thorin collapse on the ground.

"They're alright." Dwalin told him. "Not quite healthy yet, but awake. They'll be good."

Thorin sighed deeply in relief, still finding it hard to catch a thought through the fog in his mind.

"Eyes." he then pressed out. "Cannot see. Eyes-"

Dwalin's grip tightened all of a sudden before it became gentle again. Thorin was glad it was him and nobody else there. Others might have lied to him, but not Dwalin.

"Óin thought that might happen." Dwalin said quietly, his voice rough. "You got your head bashed in quite badly before I managed to kill the orc who did it. At first I thought...I thought you were dead."

He stopped and Thorin could feel the fear that was lying beneath those words as he relived that moment, the quiet rage and the terror that Thorin might be dead.

"Not dead." he said, squeezing Dwalin's hand as tightly as he was able to. It was as if he wanted to reassure himself as much as his One. "Not dead."

"I know. And I'm glad." There was some rustling as Dwalin apparently shifted. "Can I kiss you?"

Thorin chuckled quietly at his question but a pang of grief went through his heart as well. He was blind. Maybe permanently, maybe not, but he had for now lost the ability to simply read in Dwalin's eyes the question that he had just asked him. Dwalin knew how much he hated to be touched without warning and not being able to see it coming just made it worse.

"Of course." he whispered. He could feel Dwalin shifting and then soft lips were pressing onto his and he smiled a little into the kiss. Even though the circumstances were anything but normal there was a little normality in their touch at least, something steady and lasting that hadn't changed when everything around them had.

Every little movement, however, still send bolts of pain shooting through Thorin's head and he soon found himself drifting off into sleep again, the fingers of Dwalin's hand still securely interwoven with his own.

*

The following days brought a lot of time to think. Thorin still found it hard to get used to the total darkness around him although his hearing quickly picked up every small sound of what was happening, especially when Óin slowly began to lower the strength of his pain medication. He soon noticed that he was still outside of Erebor, at the edge of the battlefield where some medical tents had hastily been erected for the wounded of the battle of which there were many and Dwalin told him that elven, human and dwarven healers kept working side by side to deal with the injuries that had been sustained during the fighting.

Thorin soon discovered that his eyesight was not the only thing that had been damaged in his fight against Azog and Bolg before the white orc's son had almost killed him after Thorin had ended his father's life. The hit he had taken to his side that had brought him down originally had shattered the bones in his hip and the pain shooting through him every time he was trying to move told him that the damage had to have been great. Óin told him that he would likely be able to walk again although how well he couldn't or didn't want to tell him. Dwalin said nothing on the issue either, although to him it didn't seem to matter what state Thorin was in as long as he was still alive and slowly getting better each day. They never talked much in general - touching was more important to them, the simple silent reassurance that they were both still here more than enough for them for the moment.

In the beginning, the pain whenever he was moving his head or lower part of the body was enough to deter Thorin's thoughts for the majority of time - mostly he spent his days sleeping or dozing in that strange realm between dreaming and waking where Óin's potions tended to send him. In the rare moments where his thoughts were clear he tried to come to terms with everything that had happened and found that his mind still shied away from it. Somehow, despite the horrors he had seen, he had always thought himself invincible and had never imagined that Erebor might one day have a blind king who was unable to fight and defend its walls with his own hands. Dwalin had to know what he was thinking, but he stayed remarkably quiet on those issues - and when Kíli and Fíli finally came to visit him for the first time there were other things to talk about.

Thorin had been able to hear them from a long distance away, Kíli chatting loudly and Fíli laughing occasionally between his brother's words. However, Kíli's chatter was a tad too fast to be as carefree as he pretended to be and Fíli's laughter had a note of nervousness to it as well. They came closer slowly, more slowly than they normally would and Thorin could only surmise that they hadn't completely recovered from their own injuries yet. There was little trace of that in their voices, however, as they both rushed in, relieved to find their uncle conscious and expecting them already. Dwalin murmured an excuse as they came in and vacated his seat at Thorin's side to give the family some time amongst themselves.

They seemed almost scared of touching him at first, only crashing into Thorin's arms when he laughed and told them that it would be fine, he was unlikely to die from their affection. If they were careful, that was. For once he didn't mind the pain shooting through him, far too happy that he was close to them again. His hands kept carding themselves through their hair and feeling their faces, looking for injury and reassuring himself that they were truly alright.

Their conversation was more of a shouting match as they were trying to tell him everything at the same time but Thorin didn't truly mind - the most important thing was that his nephews were here and they were whole. He never asked after their injures - Dwalin had told him enough and he wanted to use their time together to remind themselves of the good things they had, not the bad ones that might have happened.

After what seemed like much too short a time Óin came in to shoo his nephews outside again under the pretense of checking Thorin's wounds and changing the bandages around his side and head.

"If good energy could make you heal faster you'd be dancing around the Hall of Kings tomorrow." Dwalin murmured as he came in behind their healer. Thorin chuckled in reply.

"I wish." he said. But there was no denying how good it had felt to finally hold his nephews in his arms again. It had given him some hope back that not everything was lost, despite his own state. One day the mountain would have a worthy king again.

"You're thinking about your kingship, aren't you." Apparently Dwalin was still as adept at reading his face as ever. Óin was silent as he busied himself with the bandages around Thorin's side and testing the movements of his leg and Thorin was almost grateful to Dwalin for distracting him. He would have been even more so had it been a different topic that they were talking about.

"Yes." he admitted unwillingly.

Dwalin's strong fingers of one hand closed around his again and squeezed slightly, Thorin reciprocating the pressure especially when Óin poked at a bit of particularly sensitive skin.

"There is little to think about." Dwalin told him. "You are the king. Blind or not blind, walking, limping, or lying down - nothing ever changes that. And you are the only one who can truly rule this mountain, you know that too."

"But Fíli could-"

"Fíli will one day make a good, nay, a great king. But not yet. He needs some more of your guidance, Thorin. We all do."

Thorin snorted derisively at that but his answer was cut short when Óin applied some more of his feared cleaning tonic on the healing wound on his side. He suspected that the healer's timing was by no means coincidental. The next few minutes he was too busy trying to get enough air into his lungs and to keep himself from screaming, dimly noticing that he was probably squeezing the blood out of Dwalin's hand.

"That I'm blind doesn't mean I have no sense of pain left." Thorin gasped and he heard Óin chuckle quietly. For a moment he truly wished he could see the old dwarf's face.

"Hold still." Despite chiding him, Óin's voice was still full of sympathy. "We don't want the infection to return. You are still weak enough as it is."

Thorin only growled something unintelligible in return that prompted a rough laugh from Dwalin. To distract himself, Thorin asked his partner for reports on how the restoration of the mountain was going. He didn't say it out loud, but there was a longing in him that made him want to be inside their old home again, to feel the rough stone of its walls under his fingertips and listen to the reassuring sounds of the old dwarven kingdom spreading out beneath and around him. As always, Dwalin read his thoughts before he even had a chance to voice them.

"We've begun clearing some of the old quarters. With some luck and if Óin gives his approval that you are well enough to be moved, you will soon wake up inside the mountain again."

"Thank you." Thorin smiled slightly. He hated that there was nothing he could do to help - despite his weakness, his hands were already itching to take up his craft again, blindness or no. There had been more than one blind dwarven artist and crafter before him. Normally he would have been reading documents by now, helped Dáin to work out treaties and setting up his own writing and instructions for what had to be done. Now, however, it was of course impossible to do so for him. Unless...

"Dwalin."

"Hm?"

"Tell your brother I would like to see him."

*

Thorin's plan only half worked out. Balin agreed to consult with Dáin and sort out the most important documents for Thorin to know about at the moment. Since Dwalin was at his One's side for most of the time already anyway Thorin quickly designated him to be the one to read all the documents to him. He knew that this was only a temporary solution and that Dwalin would soon have to go back to his own work and duties within the mountain, but for now it was enough. The only hindrance were the headaches he was still getting frequently, particularly when moving, and Óin's strict orders not to overdo it, not even with the purely mental work.

The only other distraction apart from Dwalin's presence were the visits he received from the rest of the Company. Bilbo's was by far the most awkward one - neither of them quite knew how to react to each other's presence and Thorin had an inkling of how much pressure the hobbit must have been under from Dwalin's words. Apparently the sole reason why Bilbo hadn't been put on trial for the theft of the Arkenstone by Dáin and a mob of rightfully angry dwarves was that the Company had pledged for him and managed to negotiate for some more time in regards of the special circumstances surrounding the entire affair.

After a while the conversation between them began to flow more easily, although the theft of Erebor's heart would always throw something of a shadow between them, of that much Thorin was sure. Nonetheless it made him feel lighter when both of them had apologized for some of their actions and acknowledged that neither of them had quite been themselves due to the influence of the dragon's imprint on the treasure. When Bilbo left Thorin felt exhausted but also oddly at peace, now with one thing less to worry about in his mind.

The next visitor the day after, however, caught him completely by surprise although it shouldn't have. Dwalin had left to procure some lunch for himself when a gush of cold wind announced that the tent flap had been pushed aside.

" _My king._ " The visitor immediately announced himself in Khuzdul, presumably with a small bow although Thorin couldn't see it. Thorin startled; of all people he hadn't expected Bifur to be the one to come and see him next, and especially not on his own. Bifur was the one of them who disliked the outside most, even more so than other dwarves. He seemed mostly at peace when safely encased within stonen rooms and Thorin had seen the happiness when he had first touched the walls of Erebor with wonder in his eyes.

"Bifur." Thorin acknowledged him, turning his head in the direction the voice came from. He was sitting up slightly (or as much as his shattered hip would allow at the time anyway) and shifted now, ignoring the pain running through him at the movement. He heard Bifur's clothes rustling before the dwarf sat down next to him. It was a few moments before he spoke.

" _When I first awoke after the axe and realised..._ " The Khuzdul words coming from Bifur sounded slightly hesitant and Thorin could almost see his hands painting the iglishmêk in the air that often accompanied his speech and made it easier for him to be understood. He wished he could make things easier for Bifur by seeing them. But he couldn't and so he had to solely rely on the dwarf's spoken words.

" _I was angry. I felt like somehow it had been my fault and like the loss of my words had somehow made me a lesser dwarf_." Bifur continued. Thorin remained silent and let him talk, knowing the emotions he was mentioning now only too well. " _And sometimes I'm still angry. The feeling never disappears. But the others have shown me that although I might not be whole in some places, I still am in others. And that feeling angry and frustrated is alright. Moments of weakness are alright. They make you no less of a dwarf than anybody else is._ "

Thorin sat in astonished silence as he listened to Bifur's words - it was more than he had ever heard him say at once. He had never heard the dwarf talk about something so personal and almost felt as if he was intruding into something that he had no right peeking into.

" _Thank you._ " he finally said with a small nod of his head, hoping that his sincerity would shine through. His own thoughts were too private and jumbled yet to be shared with anyone but Dwalin; however, Bifur's words stuck in there and added something to the mix he had previously not thought about. He was touched by them more than he could say. It must have taken a lot for Bifur to come out here and tell him those things.

" _You are a warrior, my king. You above all should know the things that war can do to us._ " Bifur told him. " _And no true dwarf will ever see your injuries as weakness._ "

His words painted a weak smile on Thorin's face.

" _Sadly, as a king I will not only have to deal with dwarves._ " he said quietly. There would be lots of others - the men from Laketown and other areas for once and of course the elves. The humiliation of stepping in front of them as blind king, unable to walk properly anymore sent hot tendrils of frustration down his spine and into his stomach. Bifur's answer, however, made him chuckle - the dwarf very pointedly implied a whole number of unsavoury things that the others could do to themselves, making it clear that their opinion was utterly unimportant.

Dwalin chose that exact moment to return to Thorin's tent and Thorin could only imagine him standing there with his eyebrows raised at Bifur's choice of words although it didn't take him long to break out into rumbling laughter when the background was explained to him. They exchanged a few more words before Bifur excused himself to return to the mountain. Thorin longed to get up and follow him, the desire to finally be within Erebor's walls again an almost physical pressure.

"Was it your idea to have Bifur come and visit?" Thorin asked Dwalin suspiciously as his partner helped him sit up a little further so that he would be able to eat.

"No." Thorin could almost hear Dwalin shaking his head. "I had no idea he would come. What did he tell you?"

Thorin hesitated for a moment before he recounted Bifur's words as well as he was able to remember them. There was silence from Dwalin for a while in which he pressed a piece of bread and some cheese into Thorin's hands before he spoke again.

"He's right, you know." he said at last. "Not a single dwarf I have talked to sees you as weak. Not even most of the men do. Many talk of you with worship in their voices."

Thorin snorted.

"You don't believe me." Dwalin sighed.

"Not until I hear it with my own ears." Thorin confirmed and pointedly ignored Dwalin's murmuring about 'stubborn dwarf kings' and 'head harder than any rock'.

"You will soon." Dwalin told him. "Óin has finally allowed us to bring you back into the mountain although the experience is probably not going to be pleasant at first. But we've all been agreeing that it will be much easier to take care of you there, especially now that winter is here with full force."

"And the other wounded? Will they have a place inside Erebor too?" As much as he loved to be back inside his own home, Thorin could not bear the thought that he was being afforded such luxury when the loyal dwarves who had fought at his side might not.

"They will." Dwalin confirmed. Of course he had known that Thorin would ask.

*

Óin had been right when he had predicted that getting brought into the mountain would be unpleasant for Thorin. As much as everyone attempted to keep his stretcher in the same position there was still a certain amount of jolting involved, especially when they carried him through the narrow stairwells of the mountain. After a while Thorin lost all ability to tell what was going on around him and instead was forced to use all his remaining energy he had left not to scream as his hands held on to the side of the stretcher. He didn't even notice immediately when they stopped and put him onto the bed that had been prepared for him inside the chamber that would be his for the next few months until the royal quarters had been restored. It was only the soft pressure of Dwalin's hand on his arm that slowly called him back into reality.

"Everything alright?" Dwalin rumbled, concern in his voice.

"I'll be fine." Thorin pressed out. "Just give me a few moments to catch my breath."

Dwalin's hand squeezed his arm gently before it disappeared and there was some rustling and then the sounds of a chair being moved to the side of Thorin's bed.

"You're not planning to sleep in the chair, are you?" Thorin asked him incredulously once he trusted his voice again.

"Uhm." Dwalin's hesitation was answer enough and Thorin sighed.

"Idiot. The bed is finally large enough so that the two of us fit in here and yet you still want to deprive me of your proximity?"

"I didn't want to jostle you at night and..."

"Shut up. You're sleeping with me tonight. I'm the king and I order it."

"Of course, _your majesty_."

Dwalin chuckled and a few moments later Thorin could feel in his kiss that his partner wasn't truly angry - rather he seemed more relieved than anything else. Thorin murmured something about subjects and impertinence although it was clear to both of them that he didn't mean it seriously.

"Now, if you excuse me, I'll take my leave of you oh good and gracious king." Dwalin said after they had parted again. Thorin reached out blindly and was glad when his hand struck Dwalin's arm. His One knew how much he hated overly flowery honorifics. Dwalin laughed and gave his hand another squeeze before Thorin could hear his steps exiting the room.

With a sigh he leaned back into his pillows and mentally prepared himself for another afternoon full of boredom and self-destructive thoughts that made him wish he could bash his head against a wall to make them stop. At least he was truly home now - to be inside Erebor once more already seemed to have a calming influence on him. For the first time in what was maybe centuries he felt truly safe and at home as if he were being cradled in his parents' arms again.

Without thinking, Thorin reached out to touch the walls of the mountain, suddenly longing to feel the reassuring roughness of the stone, of his _home_ beneath his palms.

The moment his fingertips touched the stone, something happened. As much as he tried to remember the details later, he always seemed to fail. All he knew that suddenly his awareness had changed - it was vaster, more different than it had ever been. Dwalin told him later on that it seemed for a moment like the mountain itself had groaned but Thorin hadn't noticed anything. He was shaking, hand hovering only a hair's breath away from the wall and almost afraid to touch it again, yet also feeling a longing to do so like he had seldom felt a longing for anything else before.

His fingers still quivering, he took a deep breath and put his hand on the stone again. This time he was prepared, forcing himself not to let go of the wall and instead try and hold on, to attempt and sort through what was happening. It was almost as if he had become part of the mountain and suddenly he knew that what he had always been aware of on an instinct, primal level was right: Erebor was more than just a mountain. The stone here had its own life, its own memory and he could feel a profound gladness somewhere deep inside it that the dwarves had finally returned. It felt like a mother welcoming her children back home.

And with it came the sensations of the stone. Suddenly Thorin knew the shape of the room he was in and its exact location in Erebor - everything that was made from rock he could feel. He could sense the reparation works in the different parts, knew where the stone was straining to hold up structures damaged by dragon, was aware of the riches hidden deep inside where the dwarves had not yet tunnelled. What astonished him the most, however, was how much the mountain knew about her children. In a close perimeter he could tell where every single dwarf was - how there was a guard standing in front of the door to his room, how someone was sitting on the ground two rooms over and that someone was walking down the corridor close to him now. Thorin was still far too inexperienced to be able to tell the dwarrows apart, especially with so many of them here, but he nonetheless felt as if someone had lifted a veil from his mind. It was nothing like seeing if he thought about it - it was feeling instead, knowing, just as you knew when there was a bug crawling over your skin or when a bone hurt inside your body.

He tried to twist his body and put a second hand on the stone, but the movement proved too much for him and he fell back, biting his tongue against the pain flaring up in his hip. Lying back down again he made sure to always stay in contact with the wall with at least one of his fingertips.

Soon enough, he lost himself in the goings-on in the mountain, mentally taking notes of everything that the dwarves should know, parts of Erebor that were close to breaking down, others that were safer than the dwarves thought and those places that would have to be cleaned. With a shudder he noticed that he was also able to feel where the dwarves' corpses from the dragon's invasion lay, as if the mountain itself was trying to guide him to their bodies. For once he was almost glad to be blind; he remembered the desiccated corpses with their tormented faces and empty stares that they had seen all too well and the grimness of the work of returning those few that they could to stone with the help of the Company.

Thorin wished fervently that he would be able to write it all up so he would remember everything and be able to give it to Dwalin with instructions once he returned, but there was no way to do so for him now. He had no idea where writing materials were and even if he did it was doubtful he could have written it all up in an orderly manner like he often used to do at Ered Luin when the tasks of the coming days seemed to overwhelm him.

He was so lost in his connection with the mountain that he almost missed the steps coming down the corridor and towards the door of his room. The stone told him that they were heavy steps, almost lumbering and Thorin attempted to memorise what surely had to be Dwalin's walk, although for some reason it felt slightly off-key, as if there were a part of him missing.

"Give me your hand." Thorin told him after they had greeted each other. There was some rustling and the sound of Dwalin putting something on the floor before Dwalin's calloused fingers touched Thorin's. Thorin pressed Dwalin's palm on the walls of stone around them next to his own, once more revelling in the feeling it brought.

"Can you feel anything?" he asked his partner, breath catching in his throat. There was a small pause before Dwalin's answer.

"Not much." he admitted. "Familiarity. A bit of thrumming, as if the mountain was buzzing, but beyond that...not really anything. Why?"

"It's the mountain." Thorin told him, awe creeping into his voice. "I can feel...as if I am _part_ of the mountain. I know there is a guard standing in front of my door. I know that you only have one foot on the ground at the moment. I know that they are clearing the upper levels right now although they shouldn't go higher for some of the arches there have become unstable. Dwalin, _I can feel the mountain_."

"You feel it? Are you sure?" Dwalin sounded sceptical and Thorin frowned - he had never known his partner to question him like that. Then he realised that Dwalin probably thought either his fever had spiked again or that he was frantically grasping at straws, trying to deal with his blindness by inventing other strange senses.

"I'm not imagining it, Dwalin. I know that the guard outside is getting weary and just shifted from one foot to the other again. It's..." he shook his head, cursing his action as another bolt of headache cracked through his mind again at the movement, although the pain wasn't as bad as it had been when he had first woken up. "...it's indescribable."

"And it only works when you touch the stone?" Dwalin still didn't quite sound convinced, but there was enough curiosity and careful relief in his voice that Thorin left it at that for now.

"Yes." He wished he could tell Dwalin somehow what it was that he felt but somehow the words deserted him and he didn't know what else to say until he noticed something changing.

"Someone is coming down the corridor." he told Dwalin, knowing well that the doors were thick enough to prevent any sound from coming inside - or getting out, something that Dwalin and he had sometimes sorely missed in Ered Luin, especially when Dís complained about not getting enough sleep the previous night due to 'someone abusing their poor bed far too much.' "They'll be at the door...now."

The same moment there was a knock on the door followed by Óin's voice and footsteps. Thorin could only imagine the expression on Dwalin's face and wished he would be able to see it.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Dwalin." Óin remarked, thus confirming Thorin's suspicion.

"Can I see?" he asked Dwalin and after receiving an affirmative answer, reached up to trace the lines on Dwalin's face, chuckling when he felt Dwalin trying to hold on to the surprise on his features so Thorin could feel them. "Do you believe me now?"

"I guess so." Dwalin murmured and took Thorin's hand in his, squeezing his fingers lightly.

"Believe what?" Óin inquired, setting down his medicine bag next to the bed as Thorin guessed. It didn't take him long to tell the old healer everything he had just told Dwalin although he still couldn't explain it any better. Óin was just as dumbstruck as Dwalin had been before although Dwalin's tale of how Thorin had felt him coming slowly convinced him, especially when he talked about other things in the mountain that he should have had no way of knowing.

The other members of the Company had similar reactions as Thorin told them one by one - Kíli was the only one who believed his words without proof, shouting excitedly and demanding from Thorin to tell him which leg he was standing on as he kept jumping from one foot to the other. Balin murmured something about Mahal's blessing and Thorin could hear how touched he sounded.

It was, of course, no replacement for his sight in any way - but by staying in touch with the walls he would at least know where to walk once he was able to leave his bed and stand up again and the intimate understanding he had of the mountain now would help the dwarves during the restoration and beyond, he was sure.

As Dwalin pressed against him that evening as he hadn't for what seemed like much too long a time Thorin felt a bone-deep reassurance that things would go their way somehow. He was so used to tragedy and death breaking down into his life that he would never be free of shadow of doubt that something terrible might happen soon in his mind; and he still considered abdicating and giving the throne to Fíli as soon as he was well enough to do so. Still, things would work out.

He let go of the wall and the connection to Erebor, inching closer to Dwalin instead who was snoring quietly. His One's heartbeat was strong and reassuring so close to his own, Dwalin's body still a living furnace that provided ample warmth under their shared blanket. Very carefully Thorin turned onto his uninjured side so he could sling his arm around Dwalin's middle and inch even closer to him from behind. His fingers searched and went down Dwalin's arm until they found his hand. Dwalin grumbled something in his sleep and shuffled back towards Thorin with a happy little sigh.

Thorin finally found Dwalin's fingers and closed his hand around them. He didn't even notice that something was strange at first until he realised that his fingers were touching bandages instead of skin. And there was something missing-

Thorin's movement must have caused Dwalin pain somehow for he twitched and woke up with a little shout, almost elbowing Thorin in the face as he sat up, the blanket coming down from his shoulders.

"Dwalin?" Thorin asked, still not quite over the shock of what he had felt.

"Thorin?" Dwalin replied and there was some rustling until the fingers of his other hand found Thorin's arm.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." Thorin apologised, his mind reeling. He took a deep breath and decided to plunge on ahead into the deep waters. "Why did you never tell me that you lost two of your fingers?"

There was silence from Dwalin and Thorin wished desperately to be able to see his face at this moment. But no touching of the stone or unity with the mountain would help him do so.

"I didn't..."Dwalin left the words hanging in the air. "I didn't know how to tell you. It seemed so...unimportant, compared to your injuries. I didn't want to worry you."

"But if I weren't blind you wouldn't have cared." Thorin made no effort to hold back the hurt in his voice. "I'd have seen it and that would have been that. We would have dealt with it together, probably even made jokes about it. How long would this have gone on if I hadn't found out by coincidence just now?"

He didn't add that Dwalin had made a conscious effort to keep this particular injury from him. Always using nothing but his right hand when helping Thorin or touching him, never his left. Never making even a single sound of pain although he must have been half delirious with it himself at times - at least that explained the large amount of time he had been able to spend at Thorin's bedside.

Dwalin's guilty silence was more than enough answer to Thorin.

"I thought you trusted me." he said quietly. That was the realisation that hurt more than anything else.

"I do." Dwalin answered, just as quietly. "Thorin. There is no one in this world who I trust more. I just...it never seemed like the right time somehow."

"It's been days, Dwalin." The pain was still there. "Weeks. And throughout those hundreds of hours there was never a right time? _Liar._ "

He knew how the word must hurt his One, but at this moment he almost didn't care, his anger still far too great.

"Can I touch you?" Dwalin asked. Normally the expression in their eyes and touch would tell them even more than their words did.

"No. Not now." Thorin pressed out, although a part of him longed to say yes. "Talk to me instead. Tell me why exactly you thought I didn't deserve to know."

"I said it already, didn't I?" There was anger laced into Dwalin's voice as well now. "I just didn't want to trouble you, is all."

Thorin wanted lash out once more, but contrary to his usual rashness he took a deep breath this time and thought about Dwalin's words. In the days after he had first woken up they had talked a lot - about their relationship, dragon sickness, and many other things. The experience of the battle had taught them once more how precious and short their time together might be and they had promised each other to always try and truly listen when they argued.

"So you thought my injuries somehow took precedence over yours." Thorin concluded. There was nothing but silence for an answer and Thorin sighed, pressing his knuckles against his temple to keep down the oncoming headache. "You keep telling me not to put your life above mine and yet you do the same. Not exactly a great example, are you?"

He added a tiny smile to the latter sentence, knowing that Dwalin would see it.

"I guess not." Dwalin's voice was rough but the both knew that the stormclouds that had been gathering over their heads had passed now.

"Give me your hand. The injured one." Thorin told him, carefully tracing the edges of it with as little pressure as possible so that he wouldn't hurt Dwalin. It felt as if his little and ring fingers had been chopped clean off, presumable by an orc's weapon. He cradled Dwalin's hand in both of his, knowing well that this meant Dwalin would likely never fight with two weapons at once again.

"How is the pain?"

"It's alright." Dwalin's healthy hand closed around Thorin's and then travelled up his arm to his shoulder and then his face, slowly, to give Thorin enough time to move away if he wanted. "The first few days when you weren't awake were the worst of it. It was a clean cut and Óin cauterised it quickly. Apparently I was a lucky dwarf since we managed to avoid the worst of infection. It seemed such a small thing compared to your injuries. We didn't...for the first few days it wasn't even clear that you would survive."

"Shhh." Thorin had heard Dwalin's voice break over the last few words. He caught Dwalin's hand in his as it was travelling over his face and pressed a kiss to Dwalin's knuckles. "I'm glad to hear that you weren't in serious danger. Just...promise me you'll tell me the next time. I trust you to be my eyes from now on. And that includes seeing yourself."

"Alright. I'm sorry." Dwalin inched closer until Thorin could feel his breath on his face.

"Kiss me." he murmured quietly and Dwalin did just that, hearing Thorin's little sigh and silencing it with the touch of his lips. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as that and Thorin had a diffuse notion that this wasn't the last time they would be fighting about this issue. But he also knew that they would somehow be able to get through it, the bond between them as strong and resilient as ever. Nothing would ever change that, not even death.

***

 

_(Optional) Epilogue_

Dwalin knew as soon as he woke up.

Thorin had sounded very tired last night, even more tired than usual although he hadn't been able to leave the bed for days now. They had both known it would come to an end soon and Dwalin hated it - he hated that, although both of them had lived far beyond the normal span of years and survived yet another war, their Maker's hands were finally reaching for them and calling them home.

He hated that Thorin was the first to go.

There was still a remnant of fleeting warmth left in Thorin's body next to him as he slowly shifted over and pressed his ear to his One's chest. It stood still, no heartbeat sounding through its walls any longer.

It seemed like an eternity until he finally moved again to make some light in the room. He felt no sadness yet; just a vast, empty cavern that had opened in his chest, swallowing all emotion and tears that he should have been shedding.

There was a smile on Thorin's lips and in the flickering candle light it looked almost as if his expression was still filled with life. He looked peaceful and content and Dwalin could only imagine his happiness at finally being reunited with his family in the Halls again. _I'll be with you soon,_ he thought. _Just wait for me, kurdel. Wait for me_.

He reached out and traced the line of his One's cheek with his thumb, followed the curvature of his chin and carded his fingers through the rough hair of Thorin's beard, now so long that it did the name of their folk honour. Dwalin had always thought that Thorin looked beautiful, no matter how scars, injury and old age might have changed him.

With a small sigh he lay down next to him again, cradled his body in his arms one last time before he would have to let go forever. Thorin's hair had never lost its smoothness with age and Dwalin buried his face in the silver strands, breathing in his One's scent deeply before it would fade. He mapped Thorin's face with his hands and lips, trying to commit every single bit to his memory as best as he could, desperately attempting to hold on to the image in his mind. He couldn't remember crying but his cheeks were wet when he finally sat up in their bed again, pressing one last kiss to his One's lips.

It was time to let go.

As he stood up he looked over their walls, taking in the room that would now be so much emptier. There were so many memories here. Thorin's cane without which he had been unable to walk was standing in a corner, the silver and stonen inlays shimmering on the polished wood. It had been Dwalin's first gift to him after reclaiming the mountain - the insides of the stick down to the ground were all stone from Erebor which meant that Thorin could be in contact with the mountain whilst walking, even when not touching walls. He still remembered the marvel on the people's face during Thorin's coronation and how some dwarves had almost believed him holy after his connection to the mountain became known.

He would not need the cane anymore now.

Dwalin's steps were slow as he opened the door and walked down the corridor to the entrance of the vast quarters occupied by the members of the royal family. The two soldiers standing guard at the door were well known to him and he greeted them with a little nod. His voice didn't shake when he made the announcement.

"Tell Fíli, King under the Mountain, that Thorin Oakenshield, second of his name, son of Sigvór and Thráin, has returned to the stone."


	2. Forwards [short story, set after the main part of chapter 1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't leave this baby alone, so here, to celebrate the wonderful Matty's (and Vanessa's, even though slightly belated ahhhh) birthday, please have this! Some more scenes from this AU.

In his dreams, he could still see. Not see as the mountain sees, through stone and memory, but see as he used to before the battle came and took away his eyesight and so much more besides. He wished his dreams would show him the images he desperately _wanted_ to hold in his memory as his panic that he would simply _forget_ what he was no longer able to see by now grew day by day. The images of Dwalin, his One, that of his sister and her nephews, that of the mountain against the stark blue sky...he so desperately longed to hold on to them, but his mind was a cruel one and would not let him find such solace so quickly.

Instead of the ones he loved he was haunted by other images - that of the mountain burning, of the corpses of their folk  piled up in dusty chambers, his nephews bleeding out on the ice of Ravenhill and his legacy crumbling like dust between his fingertips. In his dreams he would shout, and he would fight and even the pain those movements brought him was better than to keep on seeing what was in front of his eyes.

"Thorin!" The voice rang through his dreams, faint yet familiar. However, Thorin was unable to wake up, unable to shake off the invisible hands that were grabbing him and trying to wrestle everything away from him that he held dear. He growled wordlessly and tried to push strength through that body of his that would never quite be as it had been before.

"Thorin! Wake up!"

Someone was shaking him quite roughly now, yet it still took Thorin more than just a single moment to free himself from the confines of his dream. A while passed until he had ajusted to the darkness that should by now be familiar when he woke up.

"Thorin." As he said his name for the third time, Dwalin's voice was calm and measured and for an angry second Thorin thought of the kind of voice you would use with scared animals that were out of their mind. Dwalin had retracted the hand with which he had shaken Thorin awake as soon as he had seen that his efforts had born fruit, knowing that Thorin needed space to breathe.

"I'm here," Thorin ground out, his voice still brittle and rough.

"I'm sorry for waking you. But Óin said that too much movement wouldn't be good for your hip yet and you were flailing, so..."

"It's fine." Thorin hated how his voice betrayed him at times. And Mahal, how he wished he could see right now, reassure himself that his nightmares had been nothing but that - phantoms of his mind and that the corners of the chamber he shared with Dwalin were just as empty and normal as always. He held out his hand to feel the reassuring presence of the mountain, but for a moment his fingers touched nothing but air.

"Wait. Can I touch you?" Dwalin asked and Thorin nodded, hating how weak and useless he felt when Dwalin took his hand and told him to move slightly until he could finally touch the walls of stone next to one side of their bed.

The moment that the stone sense flooded through him Thorin felt grounded again - the mountain was taking him back into its arms and he felt safe now, knowing that the life outside the walls of these chambers was going on as usual. He breathed in deeply and tried to let go of the anxiety inside him, of the burning rage, the shame, the fear, although he didn't quite succeed at it. He never did.

"Feeling better now?" Dwalin asked beside him.

"A little. Yeah." Thorin nodded and, almost unwillingly, parted his hand from the wall. It felt like someone had put a hood over his senses, but he knew that losing himself in the mountain was not the way to go right now. He and Dwalin'd had more than one argument about it already, most notably a few days before, when Dwalin accused him that Thorin paid only attention to the mountain now and nothing else. First, Thorin had felt nothing but anger - it had come in red-hot waves in which Thorin had shouted at his partner that yes, the mountain was the most important thing right now for how else was he supposed to be king? If he could not walk amongst his people in person then at least he could do so in spirit. It was his _duty_ to do so. Dwalin in return had thrown into his face that there was no need for him to be a king every single moment of the day, that he needed _rest_ and that he, Dwalin, was apparently worth nothing now that the mountain had been reclaimed. They had called each other selfish and stubborn and in the end Dwalin simply stormed out when they both recognised that there was no way they would be able to resolve any of it now. Through the mountain Thorin had been able to follow his angry, heavy steps all the way to the provisional practise courts where he exhausted himself despite the fact that his own injuries hadn't been fully healed yet.

Both of them had cooled down enough for them to be able to talk normally in the evening - it was a pattern that was familiar to both of them by now. Despite the harmony between them they _did_ have arguments from time to time, some big and some small and working them out instead of simply giving up was a valuable lesson they had both learned, just as they knew by now that neither of them was any good at rational talking when they were angry. However, they had also never been able to go to bed when there was still dissonance between them. In the end, after discussing the issue more and more Thorin had agreed to give Dwalin more time that just belonged to the two of them - whereas Dwalin had told him he would respect Thorin's new role as the king and all the responsibilities it brought with it outside those times.

It was Thorin who sought the physical contact between them first - Dwalin had deduced quickly that touching Thorin when he could not see it coming was far worse than when his eyes had still been able to see, since now Thorin's senses were so finely tuned to everything happening around him and he had never reacted well to being startled. Reaching out in Dwalin's direction was enough of a signal for his partner to know that his presence was welcome now, even needed.

It didn't take long for Thorin to be comfortably nestled in the crook of Dwalin's arm, the fingers of one hand intertwined and those of Thorin's other hand carding themselves through the strands of Dwalin's hair, the steadiness of the repeated motion helping to calm them both down. For a while neither of them talked, the pure closeness of their bodies under the blankets all the communication that was needed.

"Bad dreams?" Dwalin murmured finally, his hold on Thorin's hand never wavering despite the three fingers he had left on his hand.

"Mhm," Thorin grumbled. He didn't elaborate - there was no need for it, especially since he knew that Dwalin was often plagued by similar nightmares and more than once it had been Thorin who had woken him up from those dreams. And there was still some anger left inside him, anger at the fate that kept taking from him over and over again and anger at his own mind that it would never let him rest.

"How's your hip doing?" Dwalin asked him gently after a few more moments. "Do you think you'll be able to try a few steps tomorrow like Óin suggested?"

Thorin smiled.

"I won't be able to stand lying around in this bed even for one moment longer, no matter how much it hurts," he told his One. "I need to be up, even if it's only for a little while."

"I knew you'd say that," Dwalin chuckled. "Still, don't overdo it. Your injury wasn't exactly minor. We can be lucky those old bones knitted themselves together again as well as they did."

Thorin snorted at that.

"Take care who you're calling old here," he warned Dwalin, pinching him slightly in the waist. Dwalin laughed very quietly and flinched, trying to evade his touch.

"I hate to make this announcement, my king, but yes, you are old." Thorin could feel Dwalin's fingers tugging at his hair, carefully following the silver strands in it.

"And you are impertinent," Thorin shot back. "I should punish you."

"For telling the truth?" Dwalin teased him, his hand never ceasing its movement through Thorin's hair, knowing well how much Thorin loved it when Dwalin was paying attention to his hair and the sensitive skin on his scalp, especially now that a headache always seemed to be lurking behind a corner somewhere. They were easing into their usual banter now, one of the most comfortable ways they had found to deal with nightmare episodes like this.

"Still impertinent." Thorin shook his head a little. "Try being more diplomatic the next time."

"Like the elves?" Now Dwalin was obviously mocking him and Thorin loosened his grip on his One's hair to whack him slightly over the head.

"Now I _definitely_ need to punish you." Thorin whispered and tugged at Dwalin's hair to signal him to come closer. Dwalin obliged and leaned in for the kiss - if he still could feel Thorin trembling ever so slightly under his touch he didn't remark upon it.

"I'll take that punishment," he remarked and Thorin could feel him smile a little against his own skin.

"Good." Thorin pulled him closer again, until Dwalin's lips were touching his skin. Dwalin hummed quietly and ran his lips up Thorin's chin, peppering his growing beard with kisses and biting his earlobe ever so softly once he reached it. Thorin felt a faint stirring of warmth in his stomach but ignored it for now; so close to the nightmares his head was still in the wrong place and with his body still as fragile as it was there was no way for them to have sex at the moment anyway. Therefore, he simply laid back and enjoyed Dwalin's little ministrations, his partner knowing exactly after over a hundred years of being together what soothed Thorin's frayed nerves the most.

It didn't take long for them to fall asleep again huddled together as they were and this time, no more nightmares were stirring inside Thorin's mind.

*

He woke up the next morning when Dwalin moved, dragging the blanket that had wrapped itself around their feet at night with him on accident.

"Sorry," Dwalin whispered as Thorin exclaimed briefly in pain at his hip being jolted so suddenly. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'll be fine." Thorin yawned, wondering briefly if he was allowed to crawl back under the covers and sleep some more. Evidently he was, for Dwalin said no more and after a while Thorin could hear his heavy steps exiting their room. He refused the temptation to put his hand on the wall and follow him and decided to try and sleep more instead, his energy still low after the scare of the previous night.

It seemed like his plan worked for the next thing he remembered were Óin's and Dwalin's voices as they entered the room. It spoke volumes about his exhaustion that he hadn't woken up earlier - outside in the world he might already be dead for such a small mistake. _Ah, but you'll never be on a quest outside the mountain again, will you_? his mind whispered and he was unable to decide whether it was mocking him or whether there was gratitude in it as well that he would stay close to the mountain for the rest of his days.

"We brought breakfast," Dwalin announced as soon as he could see that Thorin was awake. He had made slightly more noise when entering on purpose so that Thorin would know for sure that they were coming in. "And afterwards, Óin agreed that it's time for you to learn standing on your own two feet again."

"Finally," Thorin breathed out. His searching fingers found the pillows he had been lying on and with a wince he pulled himself upright, stuffing some of the pillows in his back. Weeks ago Dwalin would have been immediately by his side to help him do so, much to Thorin's chagrin and shame; by now Thorin insisted on doing everything himself that he was capable off and sometimes more. If he truly wanted to rule the mountain again he had to become lord of his own body again as soon as possible.

"Wait, I'm getting you the tray," Dwalin said and Thorin waited for the familiar sensation as Dwalin put the tray with his breakfast down on his knees.  

"Thanks." Thorin nodded in the direction that he knew Dwalin is standing in. His fingers could feel the same breakfast as always - porridge, sweetened with honey and probably a few nuts and dried fruit in if it was the same as the last few days. He had by now worked out his own routine of how to eat - it was slower than usual but at least he managed without spilling a single drop, feeling oddly satisfied afterwards. In the meantime, Dwalin and Óin told him about the ongoing restoration of the mountain and diplomatic efforts with the other folks, filling in the gaps in his knowledge from what he had been able to gather from the mountain himself.

"Alright," Óin announced as soon as Thorin was done. "Let's try to get you back on your feet again."

It was a hard and painful process from putting on his shoes and sitting up to moving but finally, Thorin was standing. Shakily, his breath coming in sharp and painful huffs, but standing nonetheless, with only one hand holding on to Dwalin's arm lest he lose his balance and fall down. Still, it felt almost like a victory after so long in bed, especially when he took one single, careful step with Óin's and Dwalin's help. He clenched his teeth for the pain was almost too strong, but centuries of battles and accidents had taught him how to work through all but the worst of it.

He could only guess at the silent communication that took place between Dwalin and Óin but he trusted his partner to trust him - Dwalin had always known when to step back and when Thorin truly needed help. After all, he knew the mixture of pride and stubbornness all too well from his own self as Thorin well remembered from the argument they'd had when he had discovered that Dwalin had lost several of his fingers in the battle.

Now these fingers were steadying his arm again and there was some rustling.

"Wait a moment. Don't move," Dwalin told him as Dwalin let go of his arm briefly and Thorin chuckled. He was unlikely to march off anywhere on his own for the moment.

"I made you something." Dwalin sounded slightly unsure as his steps returned to Thorin's side and Thorin raised his eyebrows. It was unlike Dwalin to be insecure.

"Or, well I had it made. Only did some of the engravings myself. The others of the Company helped of course and..." Dwalin interrupted himself with a little sigh. "Open your hand."

Thorin did as he was told, the other balancing himself on Óin's arm. He could feel something cold and weighty settle in his palm, something that felt oddly like the stone of the mountain. Dwalin was still holding it and so Thorin ran his own hand down the length of the object, taking his time to feel the smooth engravings on the side and the handle. He laughed quietly when his fingers found a hidden button which, upon pushing it, revealed a hidden knife in the handle.  

"It's a walking stick," Dwalin told him belatedly, confirming Thorin's guess. "So that you can walk through the mountain on your own soon. Try putting it on the ground."

With those words, Dwalin let go of the cane he had helped fashion and Thorin carefully took the handle, weighing it in his hands. It had a good weight, almost feeling like a weapon and together with the knife hidden within, it made Thorin almost feel like a warrior again. The true surprise, however, came when he set the tip of the stick on the ground - the moment he did his mind opened up again and filled with the sensations of the mountain. He gasped and swayed on his feet at the unexpected sensation, his mind awash with everything that was going on inside of Erebor. It almost overwhelmed him, as unexpected as it was and he let go of the cane which clattered to the ground.

The next thing he knew was him sitting on the bed again, breathing heavily and shaking as the environment slowly returned to its normal shape around him.

"Thorin?" That was Dwalin's voice as someone else, presumably Óin, pressed a mug of cold water in his hands. Thorin's hands were still shaking too badly to be able to drink, but the cold between his fingers helped nonetheless.

"Sorry," Thorin murmured. "I didn't expect to-"

"I should have told you, I'm sorry." Dwalin sounded chagrined. "I didn't think it would be...this strong."

"It's only if I'm not prepared for it," Thorin murmured, vaguely ashamed at what had happened even though he knew Dwalin would tell him that he shouldn't be. "How did you manage..."

"The cane has a core of Erebor stone that we took from some of the rubble," Dwalin explained. "It runs from the handle all the way to the bottom. I thought it might help if you could feel the mountain whilst walking..."

"Can you hand it to me again?" Thorin asked and held out his hands, both of them this time. Dwalin hesitated only a moment before he moved and put the walking stick back into Thorin's hands again. They both knew it wasn't only a temporary help - the bones in Thorin's hip had been too badly shattered to grow together seamlessly again and there was no question that a limp would be in his step for the rest of his life.

"It's beautiful," Thorin whispered as he ran his hands over it once more. This time he was prepared for when he let it touch the ground briefly. "Truly, a kingly gift."

He smiled at where Dwalin was hopefully standing, bidding him to come closer with a motion of his hand.

"Thank you, _kurdel_ ," he said quietly, intertwining his fingers briefly with Dwalin's as soon as he could feel his hand before he let go again.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you beforehand, it was stupid of me." Dwalin still sounded like he felt incredibly ashamed of what had just happened.

"No, it's fine, I-" Thorin took a deep breath and started again. "You couldn't have known. I should be the one to apologize."

"Now, you shouldn't. I know _you_ ," Dwalin insisted. "So with some thinking..."

"If you two are going to continue feeling sorry for each other for a good while longer, tell me so." That was Óin's voice ringing out, sounding rather annoyed with both of them. "I have other patients who need my attentions as well and my time is far too valuable to just stand here and listen to you trying to blame yourselves for everything that is wrong with the world."  

To that neither Dwalin nor Thorin were able to say anything and for a moment there was silence between them all before Óin spoke out again.

"Now. Thorin, if you can bear the pain, I will show you a few exercises so you won't need me around every morning to direct you..."

"Yes. Thank you, Óin."

Óin was perhaps the only dwarf who was willing to push Thorin to his limits. As a healer he was quite aware that pain was often needed in recovery and his long experience told him how far he could let his patients go. However, even he had to tell Thorin at some point to stop; once he had begun, Thorin was eager to continue even if his mind was awash with pain.

"There'll be more time tomorrow," Óin told him sternly and Thorin could hear the slight disapproval in his voice. "Remember, pushing yourself too hard will only result in a prolonged healing process. You should know that already."

Thorin only inclined his head at the healer's announcement in a brief nod. Óin rustled out of the room not soon after, leaving him and Dwalin alone again. After a brief exchange between them, Dwalin came to sit down at Thorin's side, helping him to prop himself up on enough pillows so that he could sit upright in a more comfortable position.

"I've asked Balin to come around in a bit and read you some of the newest documents on the restoration that need your approval," Dwalin said. "Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, thanks," Thorin nodded. "They make me feel like I'm actually doing something."

Dwalin chuckled quietly at that, but held back every comment about how Thorin was always doing enough, as he surely would have said at another time.

"Your beard will be long enough to braid soon," he suddenly observed quietly. Thorin frowned and lifted his hand, surprised to find that Dwalin was right - dwarven hair was known to grow very slowly at best, so he hadn't expected it to come in so quickly despite him not having trimmed it in weeks now.

"Maybe it's the mountain," Dwalin suggested and Thorin could hear the note of pride and affection in his voice. Thorin laughed quietly at that but didn't negate his comment, his smile only growing when Dwalin continued. "Will you allow me to braid it for you when it's long enough?"

Thorin reached out to find Dwalin and grab his hand, putting it on his cheek where the hairs of his beard were growing thick.

"Of course."

He could hear Dwalin chuckle again and relished the touch of his One's skin against his own as Dwalin carded his fingers through the growing hair on his cheek. It didn't take long for them to kiss again and Thorin could feel himself humming under his breath.

"We should hold a banquet soon," Dwalin remarked all of a sudden. "Especially now that you can move around a little better."

Thorin didn't reply but thought about it for a while instead. Dwalin was right - it would be good for the morale amongst the dwarves to see their king, even though Thorin still didn't truly feel like one yet. So far, however, only a few choice visitors such as Dáin had been allowed to visit him and whenever possible everyone of the Company had assembled in his and Dwalin's quarters to have dinner together, with Fíli and Kíli coming in as often as they could outside of meal times as well. Sometimes, even though everything was different, it reminded him of Ered Luin and the many years they had spent there together and he was aching for the company of his sister. Dís' strength had helped him through many years and he found himself missing her with fierce intensity. A selfish part of him wished that she would be with the first caravan arriving from Ered Luin after the winter snows had passed coming spring; but he knew her better than he knew himself and was sure she would stay to oversee the business in Ered Luin was wrapped up and would be the last one to leave.

Belatedly he realised that Dwalin was still waiting for an answer.

"Once my beard has grown long enough for a bead," he smiled. At least that would hopefully give him enough time to feel more comfortable in his own skin again.

"It won't be too long I think."

Thorin could hear Dwalin's own cheeky little smile as he said the words. With another little laugh he pulled Dwalin close into another kiss, the taste so familiar to him by now like that of ale and bread, although even more comforting.

"Soon," he confirmed his partner's words. For now, however, he would use the time of recovery to steal as many small moments with Dwalin alone as he could.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP I GUESS?! Anyway, here is more from this AU. In this case, something rather silly I'm afraid. Oh, and there is PORN (so a big explicit NSFW warning for this chapter. But no angst!). 
> 
> (Both of these fics were birthday fics for the wonderful Laura and Elodie on Tumblr! <333 All because Laura once sent me [the image of a big fluffy white chair](https://67.media.tumblr.com/0b13e30560c12e064feaa54e2a846a6b/tumblr_oel92jJjSi1rx1wl4o1_1280.jpg).)

“Thorin! Thorin, come over here, I have to show you something.”

Thorin raised his head from where he had been feeling the shape of several rocks from the depths of Erebor to determine their quality for mining. Thankfully all dwarves had an affinity for metal and stone and the loss of his sight seemed to only have heightened that ability in him. Together with the stone sense from the mountain it became easier and easier for him to help find the best mining shafts in the depth of the mountain that would yield the richest ore.

“What is it?” he asked back, carefully putting the rocks in front of him down again and feeling for the cane that should be leaning at the side of the table.

“I won’t say a thing. Come and feel for yourself!” Dwalin sounded decidedly excited. A little too excited for Thorin’s taste.

“It’s not another prank, is it?” Last time they had both gotten slightly drunk and Dwalin had thought it amusing to tell him that the wet blanket next to Thorin was, in fact, a dead warg.

“No it’s not. You’ll love it, I promise!” Dwalin’s voice had by now reached the level of gleefulness that could normally be expected from a dwarfling receiving their first set of practise axes. The suspiciousness in Thorin’s mind grew worse.

“Alright, wait a moment,” he sighed, knowing well that Dwalin wouldn’t relent. Taking his cane in hand he made his way through the familiar layout of their rooms, taking care not to drown in the depth of sensation that the stone sense offered him every time the cane connected with the bare ground. He drew up next to Dwalin, only able knowing that they were standing in front of quite a bulky object.

“So, what did you want to show me?”

“Put out your hand. There. A little lower.” Dwalin sounded like he was about to burst with excitement.

“What _on earth_ is that?!”

Thorin could feel nothing but hair. At first he was almost convinced that Dwalin had pranked him _again_ and somehow brought a giant dog into their quarters, but he would have felt if there was another living thing in the room and that was clearly not the case. Nonetheless, his hand seemed to think deep into some kind of fur without ever truly touching the bottom. Like a forest of hair.

“Do you like it?” Dwalin asked, voice brimming with satisfaction.

“I have no bloody clue what I am facing here,” Thorin threw back at him. He was still running his hand through the hair but only seemed to encounter more of it rather than a solid form.

“It’s a chair!” Dwalin sounded like he was about to skip up and down. “Wait, I’ll show you. Can I?”

Thorin nodded and Dwalin took his hand, carefully guiding to what were presumable the edges of the chair. He still wasn’t sure that they actually existed if he was being honest. Who would make a chair that you could practically drown in?

"Dwalin, where by the Maker's beard did you get a chair like that from? And _why_?" Thorin tried not to let his exasperation show too much, but he wasn't sure if he was actually succeeding.

"Well, uhm." Thorin could hear that Dwalin was scratching his head. "There are those goats with really long white fur in the Grey Mountains and someone sold their furs and some furniture on the market and since you tend to get cold faster nowadays I thought..."

"Dwalin, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm going to get _lost_ in that." Thorin couldn't quite keep the laughter out of his voice.

"It's not that fluffy!" Dwalin sounded honestly insulted now. "And the fur will keep you warm!"

"I know it will, and thank you for thinking of me," Thorin said calmly, trying to smooth over the situation. "But don't you think you went just a little bit too far?"

"Sit down in it and we'll see." Dwalin was rather defiant now.

"Alright, but only under the condition that you'll help me find my way out of it again," Thorin grinned and felt once again where the edges of the seat supposedly were. Then he turned and carefully sank down into the fur. It felt like sitting on a meadow made of fluff. He feared that if he leaned his head back he would possibly inhale half the chair.

"You look like you're expecting the chair to bite you," Dwalin stated.

"Maybe I do," Thorin shot back and Dwalin snorted. "With all that fur I wouldn't be surprised if an entire army of mice could survive in here."

"You just don't want to admit that this is actually the most comfortable thing that you've ever sat on." From the sound of it Dwalin was moving to Thorin's side.

"If I wouldn't feel like I'm about to inhale an army of rabbits, that might even be the case," Thorin mused and coughed a little, just to make his point. He thought he could almost hear Dwalin roll his eyes.

"You're too overdramatic, as always," his One grumbled.

"When have I ever been overdramatic?" Thorin complained. "I am the utter image of realism."

"Pessimism, more like. Remember that time you stubbed your little toe and told me you had surely broken your foot? Or the time you managed to burn some pancakes and thought that Fíli and Kíli wouldn't like you anymore?"

"Those were all legitimate concerns!" Thorin defended himself. "And let's not forget that I am talking to the dwarf who once hid in his room for an entire day when he found the first grey hair in his beard."

"Just for the record, I am glowering at you right now." Dwalin tried to sound serious and annoyed although he was failing rather spectacularly if Thorin was concerned. They had known each other for far too long for anything like that to work.  

"I almost guessed." Thorin didn't even try to keep the amusement out of his voice. He decided to annoy Dwalin a little further. "You know, I'm rather glad I can't see this thing. I bet it's hideous."

"And yet you're still sitting on it," Dwalin pointed out, giving Thorin pause. Interesting that Dwalin had not actually refuted his point. He hated to admit it, but at least for his lower half it WAS rather comfortable. Maybe they could trim the upper part...

"Alright, maybe we can keep it. But only if we shorten those hairs up here. I don't want to eat half a goat when I'm working."

"Done."

"That easily?" Thorin asked suspiciously. Dwalin was usually more stubborn than any mountain goat he had ever met.

"Well, I'd do anything for you, you know that," Dwalin replied in what sounded like he was trying to imitate and overly romantic tone. It took less than a moment for Thorin to burst out into violent laughter. He was quite sure that Dwalin was pouting now.

"Stop being so romantic," he told him between fits of giggles, "or I'm going to think that someone has stolen your body. Romanticism doesn't suit you."

"If you weren't blind I'd punch you right now. Please feel punched."

"Ouch." Thorin didn't move a muscle in his face. That was something he still missed - the body contact that had been so frequent between them, be it arms brushing, quick touches or the soft punches they were trading all the time when nobody was looking. Now especially the latter startled him far too much if he couldn't see them coming.

"You could at least try and be convincing," Dwalin murmured. Thorin promptly contorted his face and repeated the word, getting only a sigh from Dwalin as reply. There was some rustling as he could hear Dwalin step away, only to return moments later.

"Don't move your head," his One warned him. Shortly after, Thorin could hear the sound of scissors as Dwalin was indeed carefully trimming all the fur around Thorin's head, making sure not to catch a single strand of his hair. With a careful touch he lifted Thorin's head away from the cover to cut the hair underneath as well and when he was done, Thorin had to admit that the experience was almost perfect. And Dwalin had been right - the seat was indeed very warm by now, almost as snug as the furs and blankets they were sleeping under at night..

"I think I could learn to live with this, despite its atrociousness," Thorin mused, shifting slightly until he sank a little deeper into the fluffiness. Dwalin laughed and pressed a quick kiss into his hair.

"I knew you could."

"Stop knowing me so well," Thorin grumbled, but reached up in the same moment to pull Dwalin closer.

"Not an option, I'm afraid. Almost two hundred years won't just disappear."

"Too bad," Thorin murmured and kissed him carefully, feeling the smile on Dwalin's lips. "Seems like I have to put up with you and your thoughtful gifts for the rest of my life then."

"Which I hope is still a very long time," Dwalin said gruffly, his fingers tracing the line of Thorin's jaw and tangling themselves in his hair.

"Mhm."

The next words between them were lost as Thorin decided as he had so many times before never to let go of this ridiculous old dwarf that had somehow chosen to fall in love with him.

 

 ***

 

"I love this chair," Thorin sighed as he lounged on it, burying himself deeply in the thick white fur.

"That sounded a lot different a few weeks ago." Dwalin's amused voice came over from where their bed was. "Remember when you called it 'hideous'?"

"I'm sorry, dear chair, for hurting your feelings," Thorin mumbled into the fur. Just as Dwalin had pointed out when he had first brought it over, the chair was indeed incredibly warm. So warm, in fact, that he was currently sitting on it wearing nothing but his undershift and a blanket. It was the middle of the night, but Thorin had been unable to sleep and suddenly had a few thoughts which he had wanted to note down and since darkness or light made no difference to him anymore he had felt his way over to the table, sunk into the chair and taken a sheaf of paper from the stack of blank ones to scribble a few words on it. Hopefully Dwalin would be able to read them tomorrow.

"Are you going to come back to bed any time soon or spend the rest of the night in the chair?" Dwalin asked. Of course he had woken up not long after Thorin had slipped out from under the covers; even if they weren't touching, Dwalin could always feel whether he was close or not.

"Not sure actually," Thorin yawned. "This is awfully warm and comfortable to be honest."

He could hear Dwalin grumbling and a soft rustle as blankets and furs were being shifted around.

"But I'm lonely," his One finally yammered, in a tone so exaggerated that Thorin couldn't help but snort loudly.

"Then hug a pillow. You've survived weeks without me before, too, haven't you?"

"That was different," Dwalin sighed.

"Admit it, you're just jealous of the chair." Thorin shifted slightly into a more comfortable position underneath the blanket. Together with the thick fur he felt rather coddled and tired. Dwalin finally seemed to realise that Thorin indeed wouldn't be coming back to their bed any time soon, for Thorin heard more rustling and then the sound of Dwalin's naked feet on the floor, walking towards him.

"Hey, make some space." Dwalin's voice still sounded laced with sleep as he softly prodded the blanket covering Thorin.

"I don't think there's enough space on this chair for two people to be honest."

"Well, then we just have to _make_ enough," Dwalin stated, full of determination.

"Don't you dare move my blanket." Thorin wished he would still be able to glare at Dwalin. Not that his glares had ever been truly effective, even when he hadn't been blind; but it was the principle he was after here. Of course Dwalin was already tugging at the blanket, and rather insistently so. Thorin hissed when a stream of cold air hit his bare shoulders and almost shrieked when it was followed shortly after by Dwalin's cold fingers trying to tickle him.

"Unfair!" he gasped, even as Dwalin laughed. Finally the blanket was on the floor and he was out of breath, both from laughing and trying to bat Dwalin's hands away. When he finally stopped trying to deter Dwalin from his goal, he realised that his hand was touching a rather familiar part of his One's anatomy.

"Dwalin, why are you _naked_?"

"Because I was getting hot under all those furs?" Dwalin replied innocently. He seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that Thorin was  currently holding his penis.

"Well. Seems unfair not to take advantage of that situation now, does it?" Thorin tightened his grip slightly, fingernails digging into the sensitive skin. He was rewarded with a slight gasp from Dwalin.

"Is that your revenge for the blanket?" Dwalin asked, a note of roughness in his voice. Thorin could feel him leaning over so that his hot breath was touching Thorin's face.

"Think of it as a way to keep both of us warm," Thorin told him, beginning to move his fingers up and down in an agonisingly slow rhythm. With his other hand he felt for Dwalin's neck and slowly pulled him down towards him.

 "You sure you're comfortable like this?" Dwalin whispered, even as Thorin slowly began to increase the speed of his rhythm. Dwalin's remaining fingers tangled themselves in Thorin's hair even as Thorin shifted and laughed slightly.

"Shut up and kiss me." He would take a little pain for this, especially since he would never be able to avoid it completely anyway. And in the heat of the moment it probably wouldn't matter.

Dwalin complied and for a moment Thorin marvelled at how he still seemed to be able find something new in his One's kiss every time, even after over a century. Dwalin's fingers wandered from his hair down to his cheek, carding through the newly grown strands of Thorin's beard. For a moment Thorin was distracted, then he picked up the rhythm again and began to move downwards with his mouth, along Dwalin's throat and towards his chest. The chair creaked dangerously when Dwalin climbed up on it, trying not to dig his legs into Thorin's skin or have them both fall off.

Thorin could feel Dwalin's arms adjust as he leaned over the chair's backrest. His teeth scraped a line down Dwalin's chest, his fingernails leaving dark scratches in his skin even as his mouth closed around Dwalin's cock. He could hear Dwalin moan his name deeply in his throat, a reverberation that went through Dwalin's entire body and filled Thorin with a rush of warmth. His hands held on strongly on Dwalin's thighs and his lower back, supporting him as Dwalin's body arched and he came with a low moan.

Dwalin sank against him, his chest hair pressing against Thorin's forehead as Thorin breathed in his One's smell with deep breaths.

"I fucking love you." Dwalin breathed as he lowered his head and nuzzled his nose in Thorin's hair.

"You say that only after I've sucked your dick? Careful, or one might draw the wrong conclusions here..." Thorin smiled when he could feel the muscles in Dwalin's chest move as his One laughed.  

"Well, I love it when you do," Dwalin replied with what Thorin was fairly sure was probably a wink.

"Fuck you." Thorin grinned into Dwalin's chest. Dwalin didn't reply but Thorin could hear the rumble of another laugh inside him.

"I love you too," he whispered quietly, not sure whether he wanted Dwalin to hear it or not. There was no reply, but Dwalin's fingers continued to card themselves through Thorin's hair, even as Dwalin slid lower and brought their foreheads together.

"And what would you like me to do for you, my king?" Dwalin said softly against his lips. It was, perhaps, the only instance where Thorin was still completely comfortable with being referred to as king, even though that was what he certainly was now. On Dwalin's lips the words became an endearment, a soft reminder of everything they had shared over the last century and that was still theirs only. Thorin's hand drew soft circles on Dwalin's neck as he thought about the next words.

"I want to be inside you," he said. Dwalin's breath caught in his throat for a moment before he smiled.

"You sure? With your hip and all-" Even though more than a year had passed since the faithful day of the Battle of Five Armies there were still some things they hadn't yet attempted again. But now, shortly after the first anniversary of Thorin's crowning, Thorin felt that it was time they took another step back towards each other.

"Yes," he said. Dwalin knew he could trust him, at least in this.

"Wait a moment." There was rustling as Dwalin moved from on top of him. Thorin gasped slightly when the cold air hit his flesh, reaching out and searching for where the blanket had dropped on the floor. Before he could find it, however, Dwalin returned, pressing a flask of their oil into Thorin's hand.

"You sure it isn't the beard oil this time?" Thorin asked him, grinning. They both remembered the time where they had grabbed the wrong bottle all too well, even though it had been several decades ago. It had taken them two days to get rid of the rather intense strawberry smell from their lower regions.

"Absolutely sure," Dwalin laughed. He took one of Thorin's hands and guided it towards his mouth, suggestively licking one of his fingers as he slower lowered himself on top of him again. They removed Thorin's shift with a few sure movements and Thorin drew in a sharp breath of air when he could feel the heat of Dwalin so close to himself. Dwalin's body was sheer perfection to him and had always been - the traces of battle and age had only made him more stunning in Thorin's eyes since each imperfection told another chapter of their long lives together. He would never say it out loud, but by Mahal, Dwalin was still breathtakingly beautiful. He regretted that he would never have the chance to see him again.

They quickly decided to remain in the same positions to give Thorin's hip some rest and not let it take all the strain. Thorin's fingers travelled down from Dwalin's chin over his throat and chest, drawing circles into his hair and feeling every scar under his fingertips. He knew exactly where to linger and scratch, where to tease and be soft and he could feel Dwalin's breath quickening already. Dwalin's head was still close to his, mouth and nose buried in his hair as his hands were clenched around the backrest of the chair.

Thorin moved his one hand further down, fingers getting tangled in the thick brush of hair above Dwalin's crotch. His fingernails left soft traces on the inside of Dwalin's thigh, making him quiver already even before Thorin reached Dwalin's behind. He took his fingers away for a moment, coating them liberally in oil before finding the spot again and carefully slipping the first one inside. There was a harsh breath from Dwalin as he exhaled into the crook of Thorin neck and Thorin bent his head to press a soft kiss on his One's shoulder. He slid deeper more slowly until he found the sweet spot that made Dwalin suppress moans in Thorin's skin. Thorin could already feel himself get hard in response - nothing managed so quickly like having Dwalin so close and relinquishing all the control over himself that was usually so tightly held to Thorin.

He slipped a second finger inside, before he reached for the oil again with his other hand. Not much longer now. Dwalin's teeth were closing around the skin of his shoulder and the sweet moment of pain only urged him on more. Finally he brought his lower body up, as the same time as Dwalin lowered his and a moan escaped him at the sensation that he hadn't felt in so long.

"Dwalin..." The name slipped over his lips like a forgotten gem and he could hear his one moan in reply. With almost agonizing slowness he moved deeper inside, once again finding the spot that turned Dwalin into a quivering mess above him, especially when they both began moving in rhythm.  

Dwalin lowered his body slightly more, until his weight was resting equally on his hips, knees and hands. Thorin slid one of his arms around Dwalin's neck, feeling the heat radiating from his skin and breathing harshly as he was slowly climaxing himself. Something inside him broke, giving way, and with a single thrust he emptied himself, almost collapsing back into the fluffy confines of the chair. Dwalin broke down on top of him not long after, his lips kissing the same spot where he had bitten down so savagely only moments before. Thorin's fingers entangled with Dwalin's as they both floated on the afterglow, feeling their breathing synchronise and slowly even out again. The beat of Dwalin's heart seemed so close to Thorin's own that it felt like he could reach out and close his fingers around both of them.

With one hand Thorin searched around until he found the blanket from earlier and was able to wrap it both around him and Dwalin as they lay sprawled on the chair. Thorin still wasn't quite sure how they were both actually fitting on it, but somehow it seemed to work. For a while they simply remained like that, occasionally kissing or humming and carding the fingers through each other's beard and hair.

"We could just stay here all night," Thorin said dreamily. Dwalin gave a quiet laugh, after which Thorin could feel him shaking his head.

"Don't think so. I'm fairly sure in an hour or so this won't feel as comfortable anymore."

Thorin sighed, having to agree with Dwalin mentally. He could already feel the pain he would be in from such a contorted position by tomorrow morning if they remained in the chair. Dwalin carefully raised himself up on his arms and knees again and Thorin couldn't suppress a low moan when he slid out of him. It was as if a piece of himself had been taken away. Dwalin remained under the blanket with him for a moment longer before slipping out. Thorin heard soft cursing as his One seemed to be searching for a candlestick and flint in the presumed darkness. At least Thorin didn't have that particular problem anymore.

Thankfully they had put a small holder for Thorin's cane on the side of the chair a while ago so it was easy to find and wouldn't clatter to the ground when Thorin made a grab for it. As Thorin's fingers travelled along the edge of the chair to pick up his cane, they encountered a vaguely sticky mess.

"Uhm, Dwalin? I think we should try and clean that chair..."

Another curse came from Dwalin and then the sound of him lighting a candle. Thorin carefully removed himself from the chair and suppressed a shudder as both the cold air and the awareness of the mountain hit him simultaneously.

"We probably should, yeah," Dwalin agreed as he walked up next to him.

"How bad is it?"

"At least the colour is the same," Dwalin grumbled, making Thorin laugh. "Not sure how easy it'll be to get out though. I mean, that long hair..."

"Hm." Thorin and Dwalin both knew that asking for help from others might not be the best of ideas. _Excuse me, we had sex last night and left some traces - Balin, could you help with that?_ was certainly nothing anybody would want to hear, least of all Dwalin's brother.

"We should try and heat some water, maybe that'll work," Thorin suggested.

"Now, as we are?" Dwalin sounded more than sceptical and another cold shower running through Thorin told him that maybe they should at least put on some clothes and warm shoes first. As if on cue, both of them moved back to their bed again to warm up and then solve the problem they hadn't even considered before. As soon as they were back, however, the prospect of leaving the warm confines of their blankets and furs seemed rather unwelcome. Thorin wrapped his arms around Dwalin from behind, unwilling to let go of him again, just as Dwalin was rather content to simply remain in his embrace.

Thorin woke up by the sound of knocking on their door. He groaned, wishing with a sigh that he could sleep longer and wondering why his muscles were hurting so badly. Next to him Dwalin murmured something unintelligible and wrapped his arms around Thorin when he wanted to move. Thorin sighed and touched the wall, his awareness of the mountain immediately telling him that it was likely Balin standing in front of their door. He was the only one who would come at this time and had such a sure, yet impatient stance.

"Come in," he called out. The door opened and he could hear Balin stop after only two steps into the room, closing the door again behind him.  

"Why on earth are you still asleep? Shouldn't you be up by now?"

"'m old an' need sleep. Get out." That was Dwalin's mumble next to Thorin. Thorin elbowed his One, hoping that he hadn't hit any important spots.

"It was a long night," he said, trying not to sound too apologetic. He was the king. He could perfectly well sleep in for once if he so wished. And Balin had no business knowing what exactly had kept them up for so long the previous night. Now that Thorin remembered he also knew why his body was hurting so much.

"Long night or no, you're expected to meet the miners and architects soon for another assessment of how the rebuilding of the old mines is going, so I suggest you get up soon."

Dwalin groaned loudly and Thorin found himself inclined to echo the sentiment at least in his mind. He found himself reminded of days long ago in the same mountain, when his parents had been harking at him to finally get out of bed so he could do his princely duties. He was about to tell Balin that yes, they were going to get up soon and no, he didn't have to stay with them, when he could hear an exclamation of slight disgust from him.

"What by the Maker's beard happened to your chair?"

That was when the rest of last night's activities came flying back into Thorin's head. He groaned. There was absolutely no motivation for him to tell Balin anything about what had happened last night. Or why the chair wasn't quite as pristine as it used to be. He didn't need the ability to see to know that Dwalin would do his damnest to pretend that he hadn't heard his brother.

"We. Uhm." Thorin didn't manage to get much further.

"On second thought, I don't think I _want_ to know," Balin grumbled and through the mountain Thorin could feel him moving away again. "Should I send in somebody to help you clean it or can you two do it by yourselves?"

"We can do it ourselves of course," Thorin told him indignantly. They weren't children after all. And _certainly_ needed no one to clean up after them. Dwalin murmured an agreement behind him. Balin simply exhaled in what sounded like a rather long-suffering sigh.

"Well, no matter what you do, do it quickly. The miners will be waiting."

"I know." If Thorin could have glared at Balin, he would have. He could barely refrain from adding 'and now please leave so that we can get dressed in actual privacy.'

Dwalin snorted behind him in what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh and Balin sighed again before he directed his steps back towards the door. Thorin had no desire to understand the words he was murmuring under his breath.

"Well, that was awkward," Dwalin said after Balin had left and closed the door behind him.

"Mhm," Thorin agreed and yawned, trying to suppress a groan when he stretched and his body felt like he had dropped an anvil on it recently.

"So...should we try and clean the chair then?" Dwalin suggested and Thorin agreed, even as everything in his body wanted to scream out not to leave the wonderfully cosy warmth of their bedcovers.

Almost an hour later they both decided several things: a) the chair was absolutely horrendously to clean, b) that everything took a lot longer than it should have thanks to that and that c) they would never have sex on the chair again.

Thorin wished he would have known earlier.

 


End file.
